


fates latest casualties

by dontstraytoofar



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Roanoke
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 04:37:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17440076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontstraytoofar/pseuds/dontstraytoofar
Summary: Audrey doesn’t know when it started, but she wonders when everything in her life came down to Shelby Miller.





	fates latest casualties

**Author's Note:**

> FINALLY got to posting this short one shot. or long. depends on how you look at it? anyways! personally these two deserve way more recognition and fics tbh, so this is my contribution. i loved the brief moments we got of them and their dynamic, so i tried to explore that and i hope i did that convincingly! enjoy! 
> 
> comments + kudos are very appreciated xx

* * *

 

 

> _“I have been bent and broken, but - I hope - into a better shape.”_

_\- Charles Dickens_

 

-

 

 

Audrey doesn’t know when it started, but she wonders when everything in her life came down to Shelby Miller.

The metallic taste in her mouth hasn’t left, she feels it dribble down her lips, to her chin; her ankle feels like it’s on _fire._ The woods she tramples through is so disorientating, the trees bend in on her vision, Audrey’s barely able to make out the House in her view as she comes to the clearing. _That fucking place,_ she thinks, swallowing the fear in her throat, hand tightening around the gun in her hand. She can still feel it vibrating in her palm as she shot one of the Polk men, can still feel the heat of the silver metal and smell of the gun powder. Can still feel her back tooth being ripped from her gums.

She vaguely feels Monet behind her, clutching her stomach and panting hard; the other woman leans her arm on Audrey’s shoulder, wheezing out as she gazes up to the mansion in front of them.

They walk to the landing, the front door slightly open, cracked like it’s begging for them to re-enter. It towers, it sneers, and Audrey swears she sees it gloat _. I have her_ , It seems to say, _what are you willing to do to get her back?_

 “Please don’t fucking tell me we’re going back in there.”

Audrey closes her eyes, knuckles blending white around the hilt of the gun at Monet’s words. She spits the pool of blood that has gathered in her mouth onto the ground, wiping at her chin from where it drips, grimacing at the feeling. And Audrey thinks of Shelby and her smile and her laugh and not many things have been making sense lately, but Shelby always did; so _yeah,_ Audrey thinks, _we’re fucking going back in there._

 “We have to.” Monet stares at Audrey, as if she’s gone mad. Audrey simply rolls her eyes at the look and bites out. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. Shelby’s still in-“

 “Oh, for fuck- this is about _Shelby?”_

Audrey narrows her eyes, frowning at the other woman’s words, and she’s in _way_ too much pain to be having this conversation. “It’s about saving a goddamn _life,_ Monet. Not everything has a double meaning.”

Monet holds her hands up, relenting, but soon gestures for the firearm clutched in Audrey’s hand. “Fine, but you’re a god-awful shot. Give me the gun.”

Audrey sighs, hand unfurling from the weapon as she places it in Monet’s open hand. “There’s only three rounds left, and-“

Monet scoffs, walking to the front door. She flanks it, peering into the house. The creak it makes as new visitors enter sends chills down both women’s backs. “And who’s fault is that? Miss ‘shoot a dead body four times.’”

Audrey rolls her eyes, trying to swallow the fear circling her heart, digging into her skin. She clutches the back of Monet’s shirt as they walk in to centre herself. “For God’s sake, I panicked.”

The house groans with their steps, Audrey can feel her body shaking and sweat gathering on the pours of her skin and she wonders, she wonders how the _fuck_ Shelby lived through this. The fear, the blood, the horror, how Audrey can feel eyes on her but she can’t _see_ anyone staring at her. _She_ was Shelby for six months, she lived her and walked in her steps and now maybe they’re the same person and maybe they’re the same soul. But good Christ if Audrey knows one thing it’s that she doesn’t feel like she could have breathed and bled through the things Shelby did. It doesn’t feel like-

Monet lets out a short ‘tsk’, holding her hand up for Audrey to stop walking and quieten. Her chest halts, her hand tightening in the back of the other woman’s shirt. They make it to the bottom of the winding stair case, looking up as Monet aims the gun skyward; it’s quiet, like sound couldn’t exist here, as if they were underwater and muffled.

At the thought, an inhuman screech pierces the air, enough for tears to spring forth to Audrey’s eyes and for her to whimper, body shoving forward into Monet’s back. “Fucking hell,” Audrey breathes out, eyes squeezed shut against the sounds, “fucking hell, what was that?”

Monet shakes her head wordlessly, looking back down and grabbing Audrey’s wrist, unlatching her from her shirt. She speaks quietly, strongly, but Audrey can hear the waver in her voice. The _fear_ that clutches her chest. It forces Audrey to open her eyes, repeat the mantra in her head that starts and ends with; _Shelby, Shelby, Shelby._

“I don’t know, but stay close, whatever it was could have Dominic, or-“

Another scream pierces the air, but it’s _human,_ and Audrey’s neck snaps up to gaze up the stairs. She furrows her brow, for the sound and voice is so _familiar_ it’s as if her body reacts by itself; as if it was instinct, primal, for her to move to the scream. Tears prick her vision, heart constricting at the pained noise and she’s pushing past Monet before the other woman can even react, words leaving her lips in a shout.

 “Shelby!”

Audrey runs up the stairs, limping as her body almost collapses with exhaustion. But she pushes on with her hands clutching to the railing, and Monet widens her eyes, chasing after her. “Shit, Audrey!”

Audrey pants, feeling like her lungs are on fire and the blood in her mouth just dribbles out now, trailing down her chin and to her neck. She doesn’t care, she doesn’t fucking care. She thinks in the corner of her eye she sees one of the Chen’s sitting in the corner of the ceiling; body contorted as it just _watches,_ shroud in darkness. But Audrey lets it pass her gaze because all that’s echoing in her mind is Shelby’s scream. _I know her better than I know myself._ It feels like the scream left her own throat. Sometimes she wonders if she can feel Shelby’s pain, too. 

She makes it to the upstairs bathroom, Shelby’s whimpering coming through the wood. Another person’s voice is heard on the other side then, pleading and desperate. _Dominic._ At the realisation, Audrey pants, coughing on drawn in blood from her heavy breaths. Without hesitation, she throws her shoulder into the closed door, body weight behind her as she slams into it. It rattles, but doesn’t budge. The dark figure in the corner of the ceiling looks on.

 “Damn it!”

_Fiery and pathetic. It’s exactly how I played her._

Tears burn Audrey’s vision, and Monet comes up behind her and shouts something about _Use your fucking leg, Audrey, Jesus,_ and it snaps Audrey out of her shoulder driving into the stubborn door. She pushes off of it, rearing back and kicking at the wood with a grunt. It splinters, but doesn’t give; and she hears Shelby hyperventilating and crying and it just _spurs_ Audrey to yell as she kicks again.

The door flings open, and Audrey feels like her leg is lighting up with fire, it _hurts_ and the muscles of her right leg screams in protest as she runs forwards.

But she ignores it, because- _fuck, Jesus Christ,_ Shelby has the knife to her throat and it’s digging into her skin enough to draw blood. She’s shaking, she’s shaking so fucking much and tears are drenching her cheeks, she’s whimpering and shutting her eyes, fist so tight around the knife Audrey is afraid it’ll become a part of her. Dominic is in front of them, and his head whips around at the door opening, his eyes wide and desperate; he turns back to Shelby, his hands up in a calm gesture that Audrey can see is not doing anything to calm Shelby down.

Audrey _knows_ her, she knows Shelby doesn’t like being treated like a wounded animal and she knows her favourite colour and her favourite food and her favourite place to holiday and how she doesn’t like sleeping with the sheets tucked in and-

 “Shelby, hey, put the knife down. Don’t do this.”

Dominic’s voice hits the empty silence, and Audrey swallows the nerves lighting up her throat, wiping at the blood that itches the side of her jaw with the back of her hand. The sight of Shelby…it’s like- it’s like Audrey can feel her chest collapsing, the desperate way Shelby’s hands shake, how her body convulses with sobs; she watches the other woman almost break in two. How many people can say they’ve seen the exact moment when someone cracks apart from the inside out? 

Audrey shakes herself out of it, walking slowly around Dominic’s figure, biting her lip with the effort it takes not to dart to Shelby and smack the knife out of her hands, hold her close and grab to her like she tethered Audrey to the earth. And Shelby looks sharply up at the movement of Audrey, and when she sees her, she lets out a chest wracking cry; closing her eyes and letting her head hit back against the cabinets behind her. Her neck tilts, the knife so taunt against her skin Audrey covers her mouth to stop her own crying.

 “Shelby,” Audrey moves closer, kneels at Shelby’s feet, and the other woman squeezes her eyes shut at her voice. “Hey, put down the knife, this isn’t how it has to end.”

Shelby, in answer, presses her free palm to the middle of her eyebrows, screwing her eyes shut and gritting her teeth; crying as blood from the pressing knife trickles down between her breasts. She smacks her palm against her head, shaking and trembling and almost whispering so only Audrey can hear.

 “No, n-no. I-I killed him. Oh god, oh god, Audrey, I killed him I-“

Audrey rushes to soothe her, shushing her softly as she lays her hand on Shelby’s uninjured ankle. She sees the open wound of her other, swallowing the bile that rises in her throat as she leans closer. It’s gnarled, opened and weeping with bloody flesh. The touch of Audrey against her skin makes Shelby stutter in her crying, voice hitching as her focus shifts from the knife, to the woman in front of her.

She feels Audrey’s palm against her cheek; soft and warm, feels how she takes the hand that was hitting her temple and holds it in her own. “Shh, Shelby, please. Stop hurting yourself. Can you give me the knife? Sweetheart, please.”

Audrey’s voice turns pleading, but remains stoic and coaxing. And Shelby opens her mouth, like a mist was cleared from her vision, the grip she has on the knife loosens and all she can feel is Audrey, all she can _see_ is Audrey, and maybe they are the same and maybe they were created from the same soul. Split at birth; kindred spirits. Shelby doesn’t know but when she swallows she feels the knife blade against her neck and how Audrey is crying in front of her, on her knees, and it’s _enough._

Shelby breathes out, shutting her eyes. Her chest stutters with the remnants of her hysteric crying, her words stopping and starting again as she tearfully tries to speak the other woman’s name. “Au-Au-Au-“

Audrey shushes her gently again, taking her hand clutched around the knife and bringing her into her arms. Shelby _falls_ into her, crying and shaking and Audrey pushes the knife across the floor away from them, almost falling back with the force that they cling to the other. Shelby wraps her arms around the other woman’s neck, fingers scrunching the fabric of her shirt up, and Audrey feels how she presses her face into her neck and cries. Stutters out the beginning of her name over and over and _over_ again like if she didn’t say it and tether herself to this earth, she’d lose herself in another.

Audrey holds her tighter, speaking over Shelby’s cries. “Yes, yes, it’s Audrey. I’m here, darling. Breathe, okay? You need to breathe for me.”

Shelby cries harder into Audrey’s neck, and Audrey starts to rock them; hushing her and running her hand up and down her back, through her hair. Speaks to her softly, like a child, says that it’s okay and that they’re safe and Audrey just feels like a _liar._ When did she start to care for her? Love her? When did the thought of saving Shelby become paramount? _I have her,_ the houses walls repeat, _what are you willing to do to get her back?_

 _Anything,_ Audrey wants to scream back. _Anything._

In the fog of her focus on Shelby, Audrey starts to hear Monet and Dominic behind her arguing. There’s something about blame, and _why would Shelby kill Matt?! She’s scared, she doesn’t know what she’s talking about!_ and _You didn’t see her! She bashed his skull in! I was right fucking there!_

Audrey jumps and screams and clutches harder to Shelby in her arms when a gunshot rings out into the air. Shelby burrows impossibly further into her hold and shakes, clutching to Audrey’s clothes, not wanting to relent, face pressed into her neck as she trembles. They’re each other’s comfort and solace and safety; it’s been like that for months, so why would it change now?

Monet’s hand shakes as the smell of gun powder fills the room and she lets out a shocked painful noise at the realisation, her ears ringing with white noise. Dominic falls back, a hole in the centre of his forehead, piercing his skull.

Shelby wails. Audrey shuts her eyes and rocks her and hushes her softly, swallowing her own sobs that want to escape. One of the Chen girl’s scurries from the corner of the ceiling and down the spiral stair case.

They don’t talk about it.

 

 

 

-

 

 

_After_

In a bold move, Audrey says _fuck it_ and goes public, and for two weeks it feels like Shelby is more famous than actual celebrities.

She remembers sipping on her morning coffee and scrolling her (Girlfriend’s? Lover’s? What would you call them?) Instagram; and a rare pic of Shelby smiling has been posted on Audrey’s account. She effectively choked, leant forward a bit so the coffee sputtering from her mouth didn’t land on her clothes, and opened and closed her mouth in disbelief.

It was taken three days ago and Shelby remembers how she was laying with her head on Audrey’s stomach, in the backyard of Audrey’s home; and she’s grinning with her eyes shut, post laughing at some dumb joke Audrey made that ended with poking her in the ribs affectionately. Shelby smiles at the caption.

_Sunshine personified. Love you, darling._

“I gathered you’ve seen it?”

Audrey’s amused voice snaps Shelby out of her staring contest on her phone; and she looks up to see Audrey at the kitchen opening, leaning on the wall with a soft look. Shelby shakes her head lightly, laughing at herself.

 “Me and five million others. Subtle. The three heart emoji’s really sold it, I think.”

Audrey’s face relaxes, and Shelby briefly wonders if the other woman was worried of her reaction. But Audrey comes up behind her and rests her chin on her shoulder, arms encircling her waist, and Shelby looks down to the screen with her.

 “It was ten at first, you’re lucky.”

Shelby laughs and kisses her and tries not to think about how her life will be put on the spotlight like she was the lead in some Shakespearean play and she’s positioned dead centre on the stage. Being _known,_ having her life, her trauma, her pain, out there for the world to see is one thing to be anxious about. One thing to fear. So she wonders why a relationship being broadcasted is harder.

Okay yes, _the two sole survivors of the infamous and bloody Return to My Roanoke Nightmare are now a Thing,_ is a headline no reporter could afford to miss. But there’s moments when it feels like the profit others make off of her suffering is too much, and Shelby wants to bury herself in the nearest hole and never surface.

But then there’s Audrey. Audrey kisses her like she breathed new life into her, hands in her hair as they press hard against each other, feeling like they’re lips will bruise. And Shelby feels like resurfacing again and seeing the sunlight in a whole different way. Sometimes she lets herself wonder why she’s doing this and _why_ is it Audrey and _why_ is it this woman she keeps coming back to; why is it _Audrey_ that makes her feel safe and whole and warm again?

Maybe it’s because Audrey understands what she’s going through better than anyone in the entire world. Maybe it’s because the two women need each other more than they think and maybe it’s because Audrey stopped her from killing herself, and she reminds Shelby when to take her medication and she tells her to eat when she doesn’t and Audrey holds her when she screams from night terrors; hushing her softly. And Shelby does the same for her.

Maybe it’s all of that and something Shelby isn’t ready to realise yet.

(Maybe it’s because Shelby loves her.)

 

 

 -

 

 

 

_Before._

 

When they were offered to go back, Shelby tells everyone and, what feels like, the entire fucking world, that the only reason she’s going back is because she wants to talk to Matt. It isn’t true, clearly, what is left of her and Matt was buried in the kisses that Audrey breathed into her; and in some way Audrey knows this too without even having to ask.

When Shelby walks into the house for the first time again after 6 months, Audrey is the first thing she sees and she wonders if it’s supposed to not feel like anything’s changed. Shelby wonders if the fear striking her heart should be this paralysing.

Audrey’s on the couch talking with Monet when she sees Shelby walk in; and Shelby feels her chest lighten a little bit at how the actress has her head resting on her palm, elbow on the back of the lounge. Rory leans against the wall opposite to them, arms folded; separate from the rest. And Shelby can feel the tension in the air, sharp enough to cut with a knife. Audrey smirks to her over Monet’s head, in this way that Shelby feels she can read perfectly.

 “Welcome back, darling.”

Shelby puts up her hand in a small wave, lips pressed together politely, and the two women were a thing once; fleetingly, when the show first aired. And Shelby tries to forget about it because those kisses meant _nothing._ Right? It was in Audrey’s cast trailer and it meant nothing and Shelby has Matt and _doesn’t_ still think about it sometimes. She doesn’t. Audrey went back to Rory and told her it was a mistake, as if they didn’t feel safest in each others arms and as if Audrey didn’t cling to her and whisper how _good_ she felt. As if Shelby’s nightmares about the house were never there when they slept next to each other.

 “Your room’s upstairs to the-“

Shelby’s fist tightens around her bag and yeah, okay, she hates Audrey for being so fucking insensitive to her feelings. Or maybe she hates herself for reasons she doesn’t understand yet.

 “Yeah, thanks.”

Shelby doesn’t have to turn around to know Audrey makes a face at the words.

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

Shelby isn’t sure when drinking became a clutch she relies on, but she thinks it started somewhere between almost being drowned by ghosts and seeing a human sacrifice in her backyard.

The red liquid sloshes into her wine glass, and she hates that it’s already calming her down before she even tastes it. It smells comforting, and rich, and Shelby really _hates_ that when she takes a sip, leaning against the kitchen bench, her heart rate is already slowing down from the houses walls that seem to scream at her.

If she’s being honest, she’s starting to regret coming back. Is it considered self harm to come back to a place that almost destroyed you?

 “Oh,” Shelby jumps at the voice, looking up from staring into her wine glass to Audrey in the doorway to the kitchen, dressing gown tightened around her waist, hair a sleepy mess. Shelby finds it slightly endearing as she watches how Audrey clears her throat folds her arms. “Sorry I…was just getting some water.”

Shelby presses her lips together, raising her glass to Audrey in answer and taking another sip. The other woman frowns softly at the wine in her hand, but softly pads over to the fridge and takes out a water bottle. Audrey doesn’t have to know it’s Shelby’s fifth glass of the night.

 “You know, drinking won’t solve anything.” Audrey uncaps the bottle, taking a sip, and Shelby frowns when the words register in her mind. She scoffs, closing her eyes as she presses the wine glass to her forehead, voice drained.

 “Jesus, here we go.”

 “What?” Audrey stands across from her, leaning against the side bench as condensation from her bottle drips to the floor. Shelby looks tired and worn but at 2 am in the morning and half drunk, Audrey finds her beautiful. She thinks to decode that thought later. “It won’t. You’ll end up like bloody Monet. Dependency on something to make you happy always back fires.”

Shelby frowns at that, hot anger lighting up her spine. She watches Audrey screw the cap back on her drink and put it back in the fridge, and while she’s turned Shelby notices for the first time the tattoo at the apex of her spine, just where her hair line ends. She doesn’t know if she hates herself for liking it, or hates Audrey for having it.

 “Seems like you speak from experience.”

Audrey turns, frowning softly and folding her arms. “What’s that supposed to mean exactly?”

Shelby takes the last sip, lazily pushing off the counter and walking to the sink as she places her glass in the cold water that sits there. She doesn’t look out the window of fear of what could stare back. She shakes her head, waving her hand tipsily in Audrey’s direction. She doesn’t feel like fighting with her, not tonight, not ever again. “Nothing, forget I said anything.”

Audrey frowns, watching how Shelby cleans the glass and wipes the rim of it, soap up to her wrists. She takes note of how before Shelby put her hands in the water, she picked up all the stray knives out of the sink and placed them to the side.

 “You’re awfully confusing when you’re drunk, you know that?”

Shelby snorts, chuckling, void of actual humour as she feels Audrey come up beside her, leaning against the counter again. “So I’ve been told.”

Suddenly, and Shelby’s surprised she doesn’t drop the glass in her grip, Audrey’s hand is on her forearm. Light, soft, comforting in this way Shelby isn’t sure how to interpret. But she looks up from the touch and sees Audrey biting her lip; eyes betraying what her body is trying not to show. Shelby blinks back owlishly, breathing softly.

 “Just don’t…” Audrey sighs, closing her eyes and taking her hand back to fold her arms. “Don’t do all of _this_.” Audrey gestures to Shelby’s whole body, and the empty wine bottle near them. “It’s destructive, and stupid, really. And you’re not a stupid person, Shelby.”

Before Shelby can comment, her mouth open to reply, Audrey is pushing off the counter and walking back to bed, hands clutching at her biceps. Shelby has a feeling that’s Audrey’s way of saying she cares but she still frowns and feels the other woman’s lingering touch on her skin as her hands go limp in the soapy water. The kitchen feels cold and lonely, even more so than it did before Audrey stepped in.

 “Okay.” Shelby breathes it into the open, empty room. She blinks back tears that are suddenly at her vision and wonders why a few small words from a woman she barely knows has her feeling defenceless.

Shelby feels like a glass house, and it’s as if Audrey can see right through.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 “Hold still.”

Shelby grits her teeth at the words that sound almost miles away, shutting her eyes as tears spill over her eyelids and down her cheeks. She leans heavily into Audrey, head resting on her sternum as Audrey stands by her side at the bed and pulls the bandage taunt so the knot is over her wound. She’s so _tired._ Everything hurts. Shelby feels like her body is at its end; she feels so weak and there’s so much _blood,_ she looks down to her hands, her red painted hands and forearms, and a muffled shocked whimper escapes her lips.

She thinks of sliding down the door, butcher knife chopping down into her shoulder and out again, how she could almost _taste_ her own fear.

Her adrenaline comes to a halt, and the pain sets in so suddenly that white flashes behind Shelby’s eyes. She starts to cry, unconsciously burrowing into Audrey as the older woman hushes her, smoothing the other woman’s hair back as she pins the bandage under her collar slightly, lifting her arm to wrap it under her armpit. Shelby hisses at this, biting her lip as her head starts to feel light. She falters, and Audrey has to steady her body up so she doesn’t collapse and fall off the bed.

 “Sorry,” Audrey actually sounds sincere, her touch gentle and caring, but unforgiving. “You’re losing a lot of blood, I have to do this quick, alright?” Shelby shuts her eyes, nodding tiredly against Audrey, and the other woman gestures for Monet across the room for more gauze.

 “I know, I know sweetheart. It fucking hurts, doesn’t it?”

That manages to bring a tired chuckle out of Shelby; too tired and in pain to form words, she simply reaches up with her free hand and grips to the bottom of Audrey’s shirt as an anchor. Audrey looks down at this, clearing her throat almost shyly as Monet leans against the bed post and smirks, holding out another roll of the bandage.

Audrey simply rolls her eyes and snatches it from the other woman’s hands.

She applies another layer, hoping to God it holds for just a while longer. But a spike of worry rips through her heart as she already sees the deep wound bleeding through the lines of the first bandage; and Audrey tries to focus on the small puffs of exhaustion Shelby lets out against her stomach rather than how much blood she’s truly losing.

Shelby’s head lulls against Audrey’s front, and Audrey’s eyes widen as Monet moves to help as they notice the other woman’s worsening state. “Shit, Audrey she’s-”

Audrey quickly rights her body before Monet does, holding her softly by her shoulders and shaking her lightly. She kneels on the floor, eye to eye now with Shelby as she holds to her body. “No no, darling, you can’t fall asleep. You hit your head, you may have a concussion.” Shelby furrows her brows at the words, eyes still closed as her left arm hangs limp at her side on the bed, shoulder patched up in white bandages as her voice slurs heavy with fatigue.

 “Just…I just need to lay down. I’ll be fine if I just-“

Audrey taps her cheek slightly, waking her up as Shelby starts, eyes open as she shakes her head, like a cat being woken up from its slumber. Audrey smiles lightly at the childish frown Shelby throws her way at being lightly slapped; basking in the moment of softness as chaos breathes around them.

 “I’m sorry, but I wouldn’t be a very good nurse if I let my patient fall asleep with a head injury. Now would I?”

Shelby waves her uninjured arm vaguely, more alert now as everything Audrey’s said registers. Her voice still slurs with exhaustion, but she has enough strength to hold herself up. Audrey doesn’t let her go, though. “You’re not even a real nurse.”

Audrey laughs softly, shaking her head. “Even after I save your life you insult me.”

The words are teasing, and Audrey gets up from her position on the hard wood floor to move to the bathroom; Shelby’s blood on her hands sticky and starting to dry. But before she can, a hand is tugging on hers, turning her back to Shelby.

And Shelby is sitting there, eyes this startling blue. Audrey _knows_ the colour of her eyes, sometimes her own still wince at the sight or even the thought of contacts, but in this moment looking at Shelby now; Audrey comes to realise just how mesmerising they are.

 “Thank you,” Shelby’s hand in hers feels heavy, like it was meant to be there but didn’t know how to mould to Audrey’s palm. “For…you know.”

Audrey smiles lightly back, she doesn’t squeeze to the hand in hers, but they separate and Shelby’s finger tips gliding against her palm in those brief last moments feels like glitter against her skin.

 “No need to thank me.”

Shelby watches Audrey walk to the bathroom and cradles her injured arm and thinks _but I do. I need to thank you for so many things._

Shelby wonders if she’ll get the time to do so.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

_After_

 

 

Shelby doesn’t have them often, but when she does, every time Audrey swears she’s waking up to her girlfriend being murdered.

The nightmares have always been there, always something Shelby has dealt with after living in that house before Return to Roanoke. The first time she had them with Audrey, the older woman woke up in bed to find Shelby’s spot missing. Cold to the touch with the sheets skewed. She found Shelby in the lounge room cradling a mug of her favourite herbal tea, her eyes far away, and they didn’t talk much but Audrey sat next to her and opened her arms and Shelby fell into them wordlessly. Without a thought. Burrowing her face into Audrey’s neck and tugging on her arms to encircle her – Shelby’s silent way of saying: _Please, I need you._

Audrey hushed her, drew patterns on her navel where her shirt road up, and Shelby listened to her heartbeat like it was the only thing tethering her to earth.

But the night terrors started after they got back from all that _death_ and horror and Audrey’s never been scared of someone’s screaming; but now every time she falls asleep she’s worried Shelby will wake before her, paralysed by fear at her own dreams.

Tonight she does.

Shelby kicks her in her sleep by accident, Audrey furrowing her brows as she feels Shelby’s arms around her tighten. She winces and sleepily mumbles, trying to untangle her legs with Shelby’s as her movements get more distraught as seconds pass by.

 “Darling, you’re kicking again. It’s only a dre-.”

That’s when the screaming starts.

It’s blood curdling; like what she saw behind her eyelids was pure horror. Audrey is pushed roughly forwards as Shelby shoves her away in her sleep, curling in on herself on the bed as she fists her hair in her hands. She sobs; face turning into her pillow as she screams and screams and _screams_ and Audrey’s been through this with her before, but like every time, it still makes her eyes tear up, a sheen of glassy water obscuring her vision as she first grabs Shelby’s wrists softly. Tapping to the top of her hand.

 “Shh, shh, Shelby. It’s alright.” Audrey shuts her eyes and wills her tears away – this isn’t about her. It’s about Shelby. But the tears fall regardless. “Baby, can you hear me? Just a dream, like always. You’re safe.”

Audrey has to almost yell over Shelby’s screams; and when she successfully gets Shelby’s hands unclenched from her hair, she rests them at the bottom of her sleep shirt – waiting for Shelby to latch on in her sleep. She does, fisting Audrey’s shirt tight in her grip to centre herself. Her screaming slows to whimpers, and Audrey runs her hand down and up her arms; soothingly coaxing her from sleep.

 “That’s it, Shelby. Come on darling, wake up.”

Shelby’s eyes snap open, and her breathing picks up speed in panic as her eyes flit around unfamiliarly, but Audrey simply hushes her as reality sets in and Shelby wakens fully. Eyes losing her haze as she realises where she is.  She breathes out shakily and looks down to her death grip on Audrey, releasing immediately. “I’m sorry, I’m s-sorry, I d-didn’t-“

Audrey shakes her head, kissing Shelby’s forehead. She tastes of sweat and strawberry shampoo. “You know the rule, no apologising.”

Shelby shuts her eyes and tries to calm her breathing, focusing on Audrey’s touch up and down her arms. “I didn’t…hurt you, did I?”

Audrey shakes her head, smiling lightly. “Only a kick to the shins.”

Shelby groans apologetically and let’s her head fall forwards onto her girlfriend’s chest as the exhaustion kicks in. Regret and shame sift in her stomach and she kisses Audrey’s collar bone to say sorry, Audrey pulls her closer as her way of saying _I hear you._

“I forgot to take my medication last night, I’m-“

 “Don’t say sorry.”  
  
Shelby bites her lip, a smile peeking through at how Audrey can almost seem to read her mind. “tired. I’m tired, Audrey.”

Shelby’s eyes fall shut in fatigue as Audrey kisses the top of her head; she wishes she could take Shelby’s pain away, her trauma. She wishes she could bare it so her love didn’t have to. “I know.” Audrey tangles their legs together again and traces her hand up Shelby’s back, under her sleep shirt, to the apex of her spine. “How’s the shoulder?”

Shelby hums affirmatively, a light soft sound Audrey could melt at. “S’good. Doesn’t hurt when you touch it.”

Shelby is practically on top of Audrey now, and the older woman smiles at her sleepy words. So she runs her fingers across to her scar, jagged and raised like a valley of mountains, and traces patterns across the thick flesh. At first Shelby’s muscles and shoulders tense instinctively, but she soon relaxes into her lover’s touch – sighing softly at the feeling. “Thank you.”

Audrey smiles, smooths the pain away, and Shelby calms. Like the ocean after a storm.

 

 

 

-

 

 


End file.
